


The Torn Standard

by RecklessGhostflower



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Control Ending, Multi, Post-Reaper War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 03:03:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16008938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RecklessGhostflower/pseuds/RecklessGhostflower
Summary: Miranda Lawson does not like retirement much, but it does provide her with an excuse to rest and recover; far away from the now-benevolent Reaper presence on Earth.But certain things are not ready to die just yet.





	The Torn Standard

Miranda Lawson found herself roused from sleep by the beeping of the comms terminal above her bed. 

“Fuck off,” she commanded. The beeping continued.   
“Seriously?” she asked, to no one in particular, and then quickly threw on a shirt and ran a hand through her face.  
“Yes, seriously,” said the voice on the other end of the screen. The display blinked to life, revealing the familiar visage of Aria T'loak. “And normally, the 'fuck off' command does work, but not when it's a direct call from my personal line.”  
“I don't work for you, Aria,” Miranda replied. “Or anyone, for that matter.”  
“What kind of a leader would I be if I didn't have a direct line to some of my favorite guests?”

Miranda bit her lip, cutting off any snarky response off. She would have done the exact same thing had the roles been reversed. 

“Fair,” she said. “So why the contact?”  
“I have someone in our holding orbit that has requested to meet with you. I thought I'd extend the courtesy to give you a heads up.”  
“I...I appreciate it, Aria,” Miranda said. “Who is it?”  
“Lieutenant Markus Vasquez, New Council Navy,” Aria just about spit the last three words out. “And he knew you were here, which is highly concerning.”  
“Airlock, then?”  
Aria rolled her eyes.   
“No. The last thing I need is the Council unnecessarily snooping around when we're so close to the launch of Haven.”  
“War hasn't changed you much, has it?”  
“Old habits die hard. Plus, I find consistency to be highly comfortable,” Aria said. “Now, what do you want me to do with the guy? I've been burying him in customs paperwork for the last hour.”  
Miranda considered telling Aria to have the man fuck off somewhere else, but then considered that Aria was not someone who directly asked for favors. Nor was Aria someone who would forget slights very easily.  
“I'll meet him in 30 at Lio's in the Tuhi District.”  
“Excellent. I'll let him know.”

The screen went black. Miranda rolled over on her side and then slid out of bed. Her flat in the Carrd district was a little out of the way, private and secluded. One bedroom, one bathroom, a large kitchen, and a smaller living room. All paid for with former Cerberus funds that had been safely stashed away for this particular eventuality. Retirement. Miranda Lawson, veteran of the Reaper War and countless missions before that. Retired. Retired and so many others had...no, she couldn't let herself spiral down this evening.  
“Lio's. Open exits, ample cover, not a lot of risk of civilians getting caught in the crossfire.

Her therapist had recommended her narrate her plans out loud to keep from heading down the lane of bitter memories that had been added during the Reaper War. She shook her head and walked over to the her wardrobe, where she picked out a comfortable outfit to wear. As she changed, she looked over to the reflection on the mirror. The scars from Horizon were still there, so were the scars from the guerilla conflicts she was engaged in as she simultaneously fled from and took the fight to Cerberus' finest assassins. She had stopped hiding the scars with prosthetic surgery. She needed something to remember.

She picked one of her modified Cerberus outfits. A comfortable-fitting light armor with enough room for a concealed Phalanx and her blade. Whatever her status on Omega was or wasn't, there was no excuse to never be prepared. She fished a piece of fabric from her pocket and placed it right in the middle of the door that was locking beside her. The security system wouldn't notice the fabric, but she would notice if it was disturbed when she came back. 

It paid to be careful sometimes.

The door locked behind her, and she felt another beep, this time coming from her omnitool. She made sure her earpiece was tucked safely in and her visor connected and then continued down the path towards Lio's. An image of a man she hadn't seen before popped up in her digital field of vision, just off to the left. He was tall, had a disarming smile, and the cold eyes of a killer. Aria's voice came in. 

“Here's what I could find: Vasquez was with the 103rd Recon, then there's a whole bunch of classified stuff I can't access. I'm thinking Prothean. It's going to take me a few hours to get into the classified files.”  
“No need,” Miranda replied. “I'll get them out of him.”  
“Have fun. If things get hairy, I'm sending you the coordinates for one of the underground exits.”  
“I know where they're all at.”  
“Even the--”  
“Yes, even the one in the airlock-that's-not-really an airlock.”  
“You're too good at this. You sure you're retired?”  
“Old habits die hard,” Miranda said, and cut off the conversation. She knew Aria would be laughing on the other end. 

As she walked towards the rendezvous point, she took stock of her surroundings. If you weren't paying too much attention, you'd think that war hadn't really hit Omega that hard. Part of the charm of it being the one of the galaxy's foremost hives of trade and villainy, she reckoned. But if you looked closely, you'd see the sorrow under the surface: the amputees, the blinded, the hollow look of the other veterans; the old Cerberus graffiti and brown marks next to it that the painters hadn't quite gotten to just yet. 

Aria T'loak had taken the rebuilding of Omega as a holy crusade. Lawson suspected losing the facility to Cerberus had shaken Aria more than she let on, but the asari wasn't the only one. Miranda passed a display of battlespace screens where one of the most-viewed news shows showed the familiar visage of Diana Allers narrating another chapter in the reconstruction efforts back on the shipyards Earth and Palaven. She had been tied up at a field hospital recovering from one of her scout/sabotage missions when the Battle for London had ended. From her bed, half-burnt uniform on the chair near her, and she had seen the Reapers leave. Then, several months later, with Oriana at her side as they pored over Reaper schematics as part of a task force trying to understanding how best to use Reaper tech to rebuild..they had returned. Sent communications throughout the extranet...they came in peace?

So where did that leave her? Not only was she extremely reluctant to work with the goddamn Reapers, word had gotten out that she was ex-Cerberus, and her taskforce was not too happy about it, making her job a living hell. In order to avoid tainting Orianna's future job prospects, she had walked away.

Orianna was competent. She'd be fine on her own. So she hopped on a frigate shuttle and made her way to Omega. To retirement. 

Why Omega? She had reached out to someone who would not give two shits about her pAria T'loak had made her the best pitch. No Reapers. Ever. She'd pilot Omega itself into a Reaper if they so much as came near her station. And Miranda could have some semblance of a retirement in exchange for the occasional security consultation. Aria wanted to launch Haven after two years as the key point in the reconstruction of the station. 

Miranda shook herself from the reverie just in time to see Lio's place. She pointed her scanner at the building, no one of interest. The lieutenant was inside, unaccompanied, and he cut an imposing figure in the red and gold uniform of the New Council Navy. He had curiously picked a table at the center of the coffee bar, in a very vulnerable position. 

She arrived at Lio's and immediately picked out the man she was supposed to be seeing. Even sitting down, he looked tall, and imposing in the full red and gold uniform of the NCN. She sat down opposite him and smiled.  
“Ms. Lawson,” he said, stretching out his hand. She didn't take it, opting instead for unlatching the button on her hip holster and pressing the gun against the man's left knee. The smile she had plastered on her face had not wavered.  
“Lieutenant. One wrong move, and you're walking with a limp for the rest of your life.”  
“I figured you'd say something like that,” the man said, and raised his hands in surrender. “So I brought something for you.”  
Vasquez nodded at the coffee table in front of him. A single datapad next to his cup of coffee. Miranda flipped it to her side.  
“Code is 9999.”

Miranda input the password, the blank datapad screen gave way to several stills. She recognized several of them. Her teams making raids into different Cerberus outposts during the last stages of the Reaper War. Sabotage and disruption that helped the Alliance in a lot of ways. She didn't react.  
“I have no idea what these are.”  
“Keep looking,” the man said. “Because I really don't think you have an identical twin sister.”  
On the seventh slide, her image was clearly visible and there was no denying that she was there.  
“What is this, blackmail?” she asked.  
“On the contrary, it's your resume.”   
“I didn't apply for any job,” Miranda said, and slung her gun back into the holster. “And I'm retired.”  
Miranda didn't like the way the man smiled, as if he had expected to hear that very answer.   
“Retirement doesn't really suit you.”  
“I can learn to live with it,” she said.  
“Given your track record of resourcefulness, I believe it. But, I'll be frank. When you submitted your expense reports in your last mission, you know, before the Reapers hit, we got a look at your finances.”  
The last mission she had gone on behind enemy lines, still banged up from her encounter with Kai Leng, and the only mission in her career that had been a complete failure.

Miranda started regretting holstering her weapon. The man continued. “You rejected Alliance funds and financed your mercenaries with your own money. Then there was the small matter of your investments in your sister's loans and mortgage in perpetuity. Now, if you were to add the rent in Omega, you'd be broke in about five years' time.”  
She laughed, a rich, earthy and sarcastic laugh that shook the last traces of sleep from her eyes.  
“So, that's it? You traveled all the way here just to criticize my spending habits?”  
Vasquez shook his head.   
“No, I'm here to hire you.”  
“You haven't even told me what for,” Miranda shot back, feeling her levels of annoyance rising.   
The man slid away the icons on the datapad until he found a folder Miranda hadn't opened. The filename read 89-XDE and it took her a second to recognize herself again. She hit the play button on the image. 

It was security footage from her last mission behind enemy lines, trying to sabotage a Cerberus forward operating base. Something had gone wrong, though, because her and her squad of eight had walked straight into an ambush by Cerberus forces. The image was seared in her memory, losing two members right from the start as a trip-wire mine sent pieces of shrapnel into their lungs and heart. The video was a few minutes after that, showing her pinned down behind three cargo containers, bleeding profusely from a wound in her shoulder and one in her leg. Blood streamed down a cut just above her eyebrow and she was doing her best to stay alert. She was only 30 yards away from the escape pod when off in the distance she had heard the unmistakable sound of an Atlas mech. Now in the video, she saw how close the mech was. An EMP grenade had gone off, temporarily crippling the Atlas mech. Then she saw Sardinia, the Asari commando that had been one of the first to sign up for her crew, reach her. She grabbed Miranda and started taking her in the direction of the shuttle, a biotic shield thrown up to shield them both from stray bullets. Miranda saw in horror in as the video showed the biotic shield starting to fail. With only 5 yards to go, Sardinia killed her shield and used the remaining biotic energy to open the escape shuttle and fling Miranda into it. A split-second later, her body was racked by violent spasms as rifle fire hit her. The door to the shuttle closed and the pod fired off. The transmission cut off just as two masked Cerberus soldiers walked up to the still struggling Sardinia and emptied their thermal clips into her. The screen went blank.

Miranda's annoyance had now completely given way to seething anger and if her steel-blue eyes could fire frost beams, the entire coffee bar would be encased in ice right now.

“You have one minute exactly to explain what this is really about,” she said, her voice retaining that chill that only came out when she was extremely angry. Vasquez, to his credit, did not flinch. He was either extremely brave, extremely dumb, or an extremely concerning combination of the two. He pressed a button on his suit, and then for three beats, she felt a tiny ringing in her ears.   
“Okay, that's going to handle any potential eavesdroppers,” he fiddled with something in his ear, and then looked back at her “I'm not going to insult your intelligence by telling you we just need to hire you to take care of some things. Cerberus may have been the ones to conduct the ambush; but they weren't the ones that found out that it was you.”  
“Who...was...it?” she asked, through gritted teeth.  
“We don't have a name for them, but the people I've been working with on the case have started calling them Sector 6s based on an old ghost story vid a lot of them saw when they were younger. Since before the war ended, they've been engaging in full-scale piracy throughout out systems, taking up the void left by at least 50,000 batarians since the Normandy did them in.”  
“How did I get involved?”  
“You know Cerberus...they're not the type to forgive.”   
Miranda remembered hearing what had gone down when Cerberus attacked the Citadel. Men and women that had made their best effort to escape Cerberus. Lined up and shot like cattle.   
“Illusive Man or not, Cerberus still poses a substantial threat, and it's going to get worse if they manage to fully team up with Sector 6. How can we re-establish colonies when half our supply ships get boarded and their crew impressed and the other half blown out of orbit? They're a threat to you, to us, and to the fragile peace the Systems Alliance has with the Council.”  
“Fuckers,” she said, and then her countenance grew suspicious. “Where does the NCN come into play here? I know you're not bringing all this because you want to inform me of some accounts that need settling. You want something.”  
“Yes, I do. I want to hire you.”  
“I've had my fair share of dealing with organizations since Cerberus and my brushes with the Alliance. I'm not going to sign up for three squares a day just to get some decent health insurance.”  
“It'd be off the record. Total autonomy, and much more than just three square meals and adequate health insurance. “  
“Autonomy to do what?”  
“Find the people that sold out your squad.”  
“I'm touched by your concern about my vendetta, but what do you get out of this?”  
“The NCN is being harassed by people we believe to be those same pirates, and it's really putting a damper on our reconstruction efforts.”  
“So send some squads after them.”  
“They'll see us coming, and by the time we figure out where their base is, they'll have moved. And that's more sabotage to deal with.”  
“And how would I fit in?”  
“Our spies inside Cerberus suspect they're going to hire Sector 6 again since they've realized you're still alive...and,” his voice dropped, even with the sound-nullifier in place. “by now it's pretty obvious that you have a sister they can get at you through.”  
“They wouldn't.”  
“Ms. Lawson, do you remember what your sister discovered in Sanctuary? Killing off one person doesn't even come close to what they're capable of doing.”  
Miranda sat back in her chair and understood Vasquez was right. Orianna had lucked out so far at this point thanks to the fact they never acknowledged each other publicly. But with their joint work on Reaper technology, the secret didn't exist anymore. 

“Is there a timeline?”  
“No, but our sources tell us there's going to be a meet in Luna in two weeks' time. It's going to be a tight window, but that's where we'll meet at least one point of contact that we're going to need you to track.”  
“Alright, I'm in,” she said, with a sense of resignation and duty to her sister. “You did mention hiring, let's talk credits.”  
“Two million credits, half now, half upon successful completion of the mission.”  
“You're really serious about this threat, aren't you?”  
Vasquez nodded.   
“Not to mention, if we were to take into account the intel and materiel you've stolen,” he said, and grabbed the datapad, opening up the calculator app and doing several quick calculations. “That's what you would have earned. We'll even work in discretionary funds for a crew.”  
Miranda stiffened. The hurt was still there, the wound still raw.  
“Ms. Lawson, I understand that...”  
“Understand what? I can do the job myself. Getting close to another crew..”  
Vasquez started to say something but she continued.  
“I have one person left in the world, lieutenant. Shepard's gone. My piece of shit father is gone. My crew is gone. I just can't deal with another crew right now.”  
“Cerberus blew up the transport my wife was on when they were escaping the Citadel,” he said, coldly. Miranda was caught off-guard. This wasn't on the file. The warmth behind his smile had now vacated the premises entirely. “I was away for work, and once I heard wind of the Cerberus coup, I sent five of my most trusted men because I had to stay where I was. The mission came first.”  
“What happened?” Miranda asked, her tone softening.  
“All killed protecting a transport that had been been blown up several hours before they got there. I had sent them too late. When I went to the funeral, one of the wives spat on me. She called me 'Widowmaker' and I was back recruiting a new crew the very next day with a brand new nickname.”  
“I'm...sorry,” Miranda said. “How did that work?”  
“Not very well,” he replied. “Not a lot of people are going to want to work for a guy called the Widowmaker. And the people that are are not the most even-keeled people...but I made do, and we need you to do the same.”  
“Wait,” she sounded surprised. “I'm going to be doing my own hiring?”  
“Yes.”  
“Don't you...have a Shadow Broker to do that?”  
“We can neither confirm nor deny the existence of an individual known as The Shadow Broker.”  
She shot him a a look that was half questioning, half implied facepalm.  
“If there was confirmation of said individual's actual existence, I'd deny it.”  
“Lieutenant.”  
“The Shadow Broker is presently engaged in a project that's three levels above my security clearance. When we asked if she could supply a roster, she told us to find you instead. Said there wasn't a better evaluator of talent out there.”  
Goddamnit, Liara. 

Miranda sighed, and then reached into her pocket, folded out her data pad, and started typing quickly.  
“Any restrictions on crew?” she asked.   
“No, ma'am. The only thing I'd suggest is avoid any current Alliance personnel.”  
“Security threat?”  
“The threat that's been there since we started shooting projectiles at each other: The more people that know, the higher the threat.”  
“And you're saying the meet is in Luna?”  
“Yes, and once you get your crew together, I'll give you more mission details.”  
She stopped typing.  
“I'm not doing that again,” she said, the serrated edge coming back to her voice like it had never left. “I'm not going in blind. I'm done with suicide missions.”  
Vasquez had apparently not counted on Miranda being as skeptical as she was being, she suspected. For the first time in their meeting, his countenance seemed just marginally less cock-sure.   
“You're right,” he said, and took his data pad from the table, inputted a few codes, and Miranda's datapad beeped in her earpiece. She opened the transmission, and saw a number of pictures of a refugee camp. Some of the pictures were small videos taken from security feeds. People trading in ramshackle outposts, people dancing at random places in the street.   
“This is Outpost Medusa,” Vasquez said. “Where we have strong intel that the meet's going to take place. The Batarians have rented out a building over...here.” Vasquez indicated one of the more put-together buildings in the outpost. “They've just recently turned over the lease to people we suspect to be Cerberus privateers that we had cleared of suspicion a few months back. One of our local sources...yes, he's reliable...informs me that something's going down in two weeks and it could be anything from a meet to the first attempt at taking over from the local gangs.”   
“And you want me...well...us...to investigate?”  
Vasquez nodded.  
“If need be, defend yourself. But if you're caught, we will deny everything.”  
“Touching,” she replied. “I'm in.”  
“Excellent,” he said. “I have to communicate to my up-tops, but you'll have the funds transferred by tomorrow morning, including the additional monies for the crew.”  
He pressed a button again, and the tiny ringing in Miranda's ears disappeared.   
“We'll be in touch,” Vasquez said, and stuck out his hand. This time, Miranda took it. “My number is in the file I sent you.”

Vasquez stood up, his uniform immaculate in presentation, and walked out the cafe.

Goddamnit, Liara, she thought again. This wasn't Miranda's fight anymore. And there was no confirmation that Orianna was even being targeted, but there wasn't any confirmation that she wasn't going to be either...and everyone knew Miranda was former Cerberus. So this Sector 6 nonsense had to be stopped, and stopped soon. She transferred a hundred credits to the digital tip bar of the cafe and stood up to leave herself. As she returned to her apartment, something immediately stood out to her, or rather, the absence of something. She scanned the door and saw that the fabric had been disturbed. This was not good. She pulled her gun out of her holster and checked that the live ammunition was in fact, live, and got nearer to the door. The sliding door beeped and opened, and at first glance, nothing was disturbed, but there was a sound coming from her bedroom. She tread lightly, the soft soles of her boots allowing her to be silent in the soft carpet. The door was opened, and a small, shadowy figure stood over her bed. Miranda brought her gun up and aimed it square at the figure.

“Stop whatever it is you're doing,” she said. “If I see so much as a blue pinprick of light, you're dead.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a work in progress, I will be periodically updating it in order to get my creative gears turning again. Hope everyone enjoys it!


End file.
